Ghosts of Winchester Past
by Kirabaros
Summary: Scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago. Sam and Dean are laid up for the holidays and someone leaves a little gift for them. Read as they relive past memories and continue to repair the rift that is between them.


**Ghosts of Winchester Past**

Dean glanced out the window at the bleak landscape of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Things certainly were looking good… well as best as they could be considering that the damn Apocalypse was on their heels and at Christmas too. And if that weren't enough, he had a bad cold. Sam had been hit too and hard. Bobby was off following a lead and didn't want to be disturbed and the one person that would have fixed everything was stuck halfway across the world doing God knows what and she had barely recovered from that other thing.

Dean felt the cough come as he entered the Holy of Holies, as he nicknamed the kitchen, and he let it out. It felt like he expelled a lung with that one and he pounded his chest with a fist to dispel the pain from the cough. It was too much the effort to swear at the pain so Dean went to get the one thing that he trusted to battle the common cold.

It was the only thing that didn't taste like it came out of someone's ass. Dean trusted it ever since he settled the score and would keep a bottle handy in his personal stash while on the road. What made it better was that there was plenty of that juice stuff she made that was easy on the stomach and kept bodies hydrated. Grabbing two and the bottle of syrup, he head to the room downstairs that he and Sam shared only to find that Sam had burrowed deep under the blankets and looked like a sleeping Sasquatch.

"Rise and shine Sammy. Time for you to meet the choo-choo," Dean said in a gravelly voice. It sounded like shit because of the cold but it hadn't lost the bite it had when it came to the stupid jokes.

"N… eat me… jerk."

Dean smiled as he yanked back the edge of the covers to reveal the tousled locks and bleary face of his brother, trying desperately to sleep. "Come on Sam. It doesn't taste that bad." Then he added as a means of a bribe, "She made it."

Sam scowled at Dean as he grabbed the bottle and the spoon that was his. He took his dose dutifully and started to pull the covers back over when Dean thrust the bottle of juice in his face. He replied, "Dean, do you have to go the whole nine yards?"

"Stop being a girl Samantha. I only trust one method for any illness and it's this stuff."

Sam gave a slight eye roll. He knew the whole story about that. Since that time, Dean kept a bottle of the stuff and used it whenever there was the first sign of a cough or cold and hell it helped when Dean had been laid up with the flu. He replied, "Yeah I know. It doesn't taste like it came out of someone's ass. You've told the story a hundred times."

"Well make it a hundred and one Sam," Dean replied as he finished his dose and sat in the chair that he had been sleeping in for the past several nights. He popped the lid on his juice and took a drink. He was facing the window and staring out at the grey landscape. "Strange it hasn't snowed. You remember that snowstorm when you were fourteen and Dad was hunting that wendigo? I think it was Christmas."

Sam came back from under the covers. He looked over at his brother who was gazing out at the window with a thoughtful look. In fact Dean had looked calm and content and that was a welcome sight to see. He wished she was around to see it. He found himself remembering that time too and replied after wiping his runny nose, "Yeah. He left us at the motel and while he was chasing a wendigo, we had yeti problem."

Dean chuckled. "You screamed like a girl when you saw it."

"Did not."

"Oh you so did Sammy."

"Well at least I didn't turn tail and run from a four year old witch," Sam retorted before he coughed. "And got his ass kicked by Paris Hilton."

Dean gave a mock scowl as he pulled up his own blanket. Suddenly a black mass of fur jumped onto his lap and plopped itself down. "Aw hell no. Get off you bag of fur."

Sam started laughing but unfortunately it started a bout of coughing that sounded like he was coughing up both lungs. He finally got it under control and saw that the cat refused to budge from its new spot reclining on Dean's chest. He said, "I remember when Setna scared the crap out of you. You called him a little monster."

"I was on pain meds Sam."

"Yeah and you tried to keep it in a devil's trap."

Dean couldn't help but laugh. It had taken some effort but he managed to piece that together after badgering her. He started to pet Setna who began to purr contentedly. He replied, "At least it was better than that Christmas with those gods that decided to be Mr. Rogers' neighborhood."

Sam grew quiet. He remembered that. That was the year that Dean went to hell. He was going to say something when the doorbell rang. Dean was already comfortable with the cat so Sam dragged himself off the bed and trudged towards the door at a snail's pace. He finally made it to the door and opened it to find a box and a dirty little puppy sitting next to it. Being cautious, he poked at the box to check and when nothing happened, he picked it up and peered at the label. It was addressed to him and Dean but the return address was badly smudged. He looked down at the puppy that looked like a German shepherd mix. "So what are you doing here?" The question sounded nasally.

The puppy barked and raced into the house. Sam sighed. He was too tired to chase it through the house and braced himself for Dean's tirade as he made it back to the room. He answered the question before it was asked, "Delivery for the both of us."

Dean looked up and said, "Well who's it from?"

Sam peered at the label and all he could make out was a single letter. "Someone named G. and I think A. It's badly smudged." He placed it on the bed and sat next to it to better open it. He pulled out a card and opened it. "Looks like there's a card."

"Then read it Sammy," Dean replied not looking at Sam as he pet the cat. It was soothing and he found that his cough was getting better.

Sam took a breath as he read, "A special delivery just for two. Relive the memories that you stew. Why is not the reason except a kindness this holiday season." Sam looked on the other side of the card, "Huh, there's nothing else."

"Great. Sounds like one of her jokes. Well I'm getting shut eye." Dean closed his eyes while the cat purred on his chest.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Look."

_Dean reluctantly opened his eyes and thought that he was either dreaming or the cold was making him crazy. He saw the eighteen year old version of himself and a fourteen year old Sam running through the house. They were both carrying shotguns. Sam was saying, "Dean, I thought Dad was going to be back today."_

_ Dean's younger self replied, "Quit your whining Samantha. He couldn't make it. Right now we've got a bigger problem."_

_ "Don't call me that jerk," young Sam replied as he cocked his shotgun. He grinned at his brother and replied, "Best of times right Dean?"_

_ Young Dean replied as he grinned, "Sure thing Sammy."_

Dean watched as his younger self and younger Sam gave each other a nod and the images faded. He looked at Sam and asked, "Sam what the hell was that?"

Sam had been just as stunned as Dean was. He immediately began inspecting the box but found it to be empty except full of paper bits. Upon closer inspection, he recognized Dean's childish scrawl. He remembered these. It was when he was six or seven and it was another Christmas. Dean organized a scavenger hunt around Bobby's house. Reading the clue, Sam gave a slight smile. Dean could always come up with raunchy rhymes though hers were better.

_"Come on Sammy, figure it out. You can't have the next clue until you get it."_

_ "But Dean, I don't know what this word is."_

_ "Yes you do. Quit being a girl Samantha."_

Looking up, Sam saw what he had been remembering playing out in front of him. Dean was watching and that look he got when he remembered something good was plain on his face. Out loud he said, "Dean I think someone worked some mojo on us. Whatever we remember, we get to see it."

"What? Aw come on Sam. Any witch mojo usually works against us," Dean replied, his eyes not leaving the scene as he watched his younger self follow six year old Sammy run through Bobby's house taking a scrap of paper and reading it.

"Think about it Dean," Sam countered, for once not sounding like a raspy old man. "I just pulled out a scrap of paper and I found your writing on it. I remembered that Christmas and there is was. Go ahead think of something and I bet it'll show up." He then reached for a tissue to clean his nose. He wasn't coughing anymore but the runny nose was a bitch.

Dean watched the last one fade. "Alright Sam. Give me a moment." As he thought about it, he stroked the cat who was purring contently as it slept on his favorite hunter's chest. He then thought about the Christmas before he went to hell, the aftermath.

_"Yeah, skin mags… and shaving cream,"_ _Sam looked at the can of shaving cream with that amused frown he got._

_ Dean was smiling. "Fuel for me and fuel for my baby."_

_ Both brothers shared that meaningful look as they turned to watch the football game. Outside the motel room, a gentle snow started to fall._

Dean couldn't believe it. He would have sat up but he didn't want to risk the monster's wrath.. He looked at Sam, "What the hell? Sam what is going on?"

"Like I told you Dean, I think someone worked some mojo to have us see past memories and it looks like so far past Christmases."

"So Angie is practicing again. Hell that rhyme thing on the card is something she would do."

"Dean she's halfway across the world. When do think she would have time for that?" Sam scowled at his brother. At that moment, the yearling puppy that he had forgotten about tore into the room carrying something in its mouth. It streaked past Dean and jumped up to where Sam was and put its head on his knee after dropping the thing in its mouth.

"Hell no. Sam put that thing out before Bobby gets a heart attack."

"Dean," Sam replied in that tired voice. "Just for the night and then we can take it to the pound." His hand brushed up against the thing the dog brought and he picked it up. He held it up, "Dean you remember this?"

Dean ignored the dog and looked at what was in Sam's hand. He would know that thing from anywhere. Hell it still looked neat but it had been well loved.

_"Tank you Deanie. You a bestest bwuver!"_

_ Dean was startled when the bouncing ball of dark curls leapt and grabbed him around the neck in a huge hug. He looked over at Sam who was laughing and mouthed for him to shut up. Sam said, "Well Dean you always wanted her to show more of her feelings."_

Dean watched and said, "I guess it works on any memories."

Sam smiled, "Yeah I guess it does."

The brothers spent the afternoon and into the night replaying the memories they had over the years. Some were of past Christmases but most of them were the good memories. Most of the time they laughed over some of the stupid stuff they did when they were kids like when Dean decided to let Sam have it with the clown face on a cake he bought for Sam's birthday. It was more effective at repairing the rift that was still healing between the brothers as they realized how much they depended upon each other as family. As they watched, a light snowfall began to fall and lasted until the brothers fell asleep to happier times.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just some nice Christmas fluff for the holidays between the two brothers. Sometimes memories are just as good as repairing rifts as is time and 'Sam talks.' Thing that I wonder is who sent them their little gift?


End file.
